The Zombie Game (7 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Aboard the
Ana Brigette

Port-au-Prince, Haiti

12:15 a.m.

THE
Ana Brigette
HAD
left Léogâne the night before. By timing the trip and estimating the ship’s direction, Lars Paulissen figured the ship had docked off Port-au-Prince.

Now, Lars heard the motors of a large number of boats and the steps of groups of men boarding the ship from the entryway in the stern. There must have been thirty motor boats moving to and from his ship. In addition, he heard sounds of construction—saws, drills, riveters, hammering. The construction was on the back part of the deck and the first floor below it, the section he’d so carefully converted from his fish operation to one that housed hospital beds and operating rooms.

Lars looked at Tobias, who had been chattering incessantly for hours. He’d become quite talkative since he and Mobuto had spoken to each other in fluent French. “Shut up!” Lars bellowed.

Tobias shrugged. “What did I say wrong?”

Lars’ face grew red. “My question is, whose side are you on? They found the things that were well hidden. Only you and I knew where they were. So, then, which of us is the snitch?”

“Captain,” Tobias said, “these men are pirates. They’ll kill both of us when they’re through with us. I’m in as much trouble as you are.”

“Did you work for these people before joining the crew of the
Ana Brigette
?”

Tobias shook his head. “No, sir. I was working on a Swedish coal ship when your man got ill. I was docked in Jamaica when you made your call to the Seafarers Database for someone to replace him.”

Lars took a deep breath and sat on his bunk. “Sorry for accusing you.”

“That’s okay,” Tobias said.

Glancing in the mirror, Lars saw Tobias move aside a long-bladed hunting knife as he searched for a shirt, and then cover the knife with clothing. Tobias was unaware he was being watched.

As Lars opened and closed his fists, the veins on his neck ballooned outward.

Toussaint Louverture International Airport
Port-au-Prince, Haiti

12:30 a.m.

There was trouble at the airport. Police were everywhere. I slowed as we passed the long, narrow building that housed the airport terminal and looked for an access away from the police. We needed a place to stop where we could watch the planes land and see Elizabeth Keyes as she got off the aircraft.

Jakjak leaned forward and pointed. “Take that dirt road. It goes to the end of the runway.”

“
The
runway? There’s only one landing strip?”

“Just one,
Doktè
, but it be very long.”

As we approached the dirt road, I saw the flashing lights of a cop car.
Should I try to out run this guy?
I made a wise decision and stopped.

As the policeman got out of his car and walked to the Lexus, I had an idea. “Jakjak, lie down and play sick.”

“
Doktè
, that be the easiest thing I ever did, to play sick the way I feels.” He lay against the window and began to moan.

Before the cop could say anything, I did some acting myself. “Officer, officer! My friend’s been shot. He needs to go to a hospital. Badly!”

He peered into the car as I opened Jakjak’s shirt and exposed the bruised chest and bullet holes.

“I’m taking him to Project Medishare Hospital.”

He nodded. “I’ll call them now.”

As he lifted his phone to his mouth, I said, “I’ve already called them. They want him right away!”

“Then I’ll escort you.”

“No, I’m a doctor myself. I’ve been there before; I can take him now.”

“Yes, sir.”

He got in his car and drove away.

Jakjak sat up. “You be good
doktè
. How did you know about that hospital?”

“I used to give donations, back when I had money to give.”

I found a place at the end of the runway and parked in the shadow of a hangar. After a ten-minute wait, a private jet landed and moved to the end of the runway. As the jet taxied toward the terminal, someone jumped out.

It was Elizabeth Keyes.

I got out and waved. She saw me and ran, carrying a small suitcase. I smiled as I watched. Her blonde hair outlined her beautiful face with her green eyes, strong cheekbones, and silky, porcelain skin. I’d helped her a little, as plastic surgeons do, but even without the work I’d done, her five-seven frame was trim, fit, perfectly shaped, and gorgeous.

Unfortunately, the police saw her, too. Three cop cars raced across the tarmac, sirens blaring. The pilot of Keyes’ plane turned and tried to take off, but two of the police cars raced ahead of the jet and screeched to a stop, blocking the runway. The third car chased Keyes.

I drove toward Keyes and just before reaching her I slowed down and threw open the door. She jumped in and I turned the car and drove away.

Over my shoulder, I saw the drama on the runway. The jet was screaming toward the two patrol cars. The cops chasing Keyes saw it, too, and slowed down to watch. The plane was going to ram into the patrol car.

At the last moment, the nose of the plane rose slightly as the jet’s speed reached over 100 miles per hour. The plane lifted, but not in time. It wouldn’t clear the car. It was going to crash.

Suddenly the patrol car burned rubber and shot off the runway, leaving an open runway for the jet’s escape. The pilot won that game of chicken and lifted off, bound for a more friendly gas pump in the Bahamas.

In the side mirror, I saw flashes of gunfire from the cop car that had been chasing Keyes and was now heading straight for us.

“Jakjak, how do we get outta here?”

Jakjak sat up and looked around. “Try that road to your left.”

The Lexus fishtailed as I made the sharp turn doing fifty miles per hour. Gaining control of the car, I gunned it down the single-lane dirt road. As we flew past a disabled truck on the roadside, I got an idea and slammed on the brakes.

Throwing the car into reverse, I backed up until my bumper hit the corner of the truck’s bumper. Then I stomped on the accelerator and the Lexus ground its wheels as it pushed the load. The cop was getting close. I saw his head out the window. He shot at us just as the truck flipped over onto the road. I shoved the Lexus into drive and screeched off into the night while the cop riddled the truck with bullets.

In the rearview mirror, I saw the cop stop and pick up his radio. Perhaps he was calling for backup. That seemed pretty futile. The airplane chase had captured the attention of all the patrol cars in the vicinity.

Sweat poured from my body as I slowed the car and tried to act inconspicuous.

Elizabeth Keyes was so close to me she was almost in my lap. “Good job,” she said, as she wiped my head with her handkerchief.

I cleared my throat. “Jakjak, I’d like you to meet my friend, Eliz—”

“Helen Hart,” Keyes interrupted. “Pleased to meet you, Jakjak. I hope you will forgive me for all that nonsense back there.”

“Good to meet you, too,
Madmwazèl
, uh, Hart. And no worries.
Doktè
James and I are runnin’ from the law, too, if you didn’t already know.”

Shame, shame on you, Doctor,” Keyes cooed as she wagged her finger at me playfully. “I don’t want to be tangling with any outlaws.”

I laughed and said, “You’ll be an outlaw if you travel with us.”

“An outlaw I am, then,” she said.

To avoid the police, I took back roads to where Tomas had parked the Lexus before his arrest. As I drove, I told Keyes what was happening.

“The
Ana Brigette
was hijacked, but I couldn’t go to the police for fear they’d arrest me for shooting up the ship and killing some people.”

“Another murder indictment? You have a bad habit of gathering those.”

I failed to see the humor. Memories of the trial I’d escaped in North Carolina two months earlier were still painful. Ignoring her comment, I told her of my suspicions that the
Ana Brigette
was going to be used in some type of terrorist plot and that the terrorist leader knew about our involvement in blocking their work in Carolina.

“What is the leader’s name?” she asked. “I know a lot of their people.”

“I have no idea, other than his title, Emir. He’s a short, scrawny, cocky bastard who wears robes that are too large for him.”

She laughed. “That describes a lot of men I know.”

“Am I one of those guys?”

“Just the cocky part.”

I updated her on our situation, the events of the last three weeks, and the surgery I would perform on Jakjak the next morning.

With Jakjak incapacitated by his injuries, Lars Paulissen being held captive on his ship, and Julien and Tomas Duran incarcerated, we had no one in Haiti to help us. Keyes and I were on our own. The terrorist activity was slated for Saturday. We had only three days to stop it. Our biggest problem was that we didn’t know what the activity was or where it would take place. The only thing I knew for certain was that the
Ana Brigette
was somehow included in the terrorists’ plan.

When I asked Keyes what had been going on with her, she glanced back at Jakjak. She put her head on my arm, and whispering, told me about vacationing on a lake and the life of leisure she’d been living. She didn’t reveal where she was in hiding, and I was glad, because terrorists have a way of torturing information from people.

“You’re the only person I’ve contacted since I left America,” she said.

“Well, lucky me.”

“Nobody knows where I am except my pilot. But he won’t tell. He has secrets of his own.”

I glanced over at her and raised my eyebrows, but didn’t pursue the subject.

Looking into my eyes, she had my full attention when she said, “But I’ve dated no men since I last saw you.”

I believed her. I put my hand on her thigh, and she moved it higher.

“Nice,” I said, as I kissed her quickly before straining my eyes on the dark, rough road ahead.

“Where are we going?”

“To the Haiti Hilton,” I said with a smile.

Jakjak chuckled in the back seat.

Keyes turned to Jakjak. “What’s the joke?”

“
Madmwazèl
, the maids were out sick today and they won’t be no room service.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

In the Rubble

Port-au-Prince, Haiti

1:15 a.m.

JAKJAK LED US TO
the tunnel he and I had hid in earlier. He’d brought one of the lanterns from the Lexus. In Haiti, lanterns were indispensable. He lit it with some kerosene left in an old can. Then he offered us the last two cans of the twenty-year-old soup.

Jakjak’s hiding place had a mattress, salvaged from the wreckage, and some sheets. Keyes ran her hand over a wall and looked at the dirt on her palm. “Damn poor maid service I’d say, but I’ll take the room.”

Jakjak grinned. “Glad you like your room,
Madmwazèl
. I’ll be at the reception desk down the hall, in the cave on the right. I’ll let you two have the honeymoon suite here.”

As Jakjak turned to walk away, he coughed and spit up thick, black blood.

“Let’s go to the hospital tonight,” I said. “To hell with the police.”

“
Doktè
, you go there by yourself, ’cause I ain’t goin’ and gettin’ myself arrested.”

I hoped tomorrow wouldn’t be too late.

Keyes asked, “Where can I go to work on my computer tomorrow? I’ll try to learn what’s going on.”

Jakjak answered, “
Madmwazèl
, you can go to the Duran house. It be near the hospital. You can trust the minister’s wife.”

When Jakjak turned to leave, I put my hand around Keyes’ waist and pulled her close. It felt good to have her with me. When I leaned over to kiss her, I saw a shadow move.

I jumped in front of Keyes and strained my eyes to see in the dim light of the lantern. Another moving shadow. And another.

All of a sudden, the cave was alive with shadows shooting back and forth. I looked for the people making them, but I saw no one.

Jakjak fell to his knees and cried out, “
Anmwe!
Iwa
, protect me from the spirits of the dead!”

The shadows danced and moved in a strange fashion. An eerie soft moaning filled the air. I raised my fists and uneasily backed toward the exit. I motioned for Keyes and Jakjak to stay behind me.

Suddenly, one shadow bolted upright. I jumped back. Keyes cried out. Jakjak fell backward and put his arm across his face.

Standing my ground, I squinted in the dim light at the figure now appearing a few feet from me. It was a woman, over six feet tall, with her teeth bared. Keyes and Jakjak stopped their retreat and watched.

She thrust her hands out toward us as she gyrated her body back and forth. There was something magical about her motions.

She stepped forward, and her height dramatically diminished to less than five feet. She had gray hair and her ancient body was crippled and bent over. My first thought was that she was to be pitied, not feared. But that changed as I watched and listened.

The old woman looked at me with round, searing eyes. Her hands continued to undulate, mesmerizing us all. Her voice was bold and commanding. “I am Sanfia, ordained by
Bondye
, God of the universe.”

Jakjak shook with fear and covered his face.

“Do not fear, Jakjak.” Sanfia moved to him. “With powers given by
Bondye
, I came to you two nights ago and saved your life. You were under attack by evil spirits, but I cast away the cat.”

“How?”

She glared into his eyes. Abruptly, she stood tall over Jakjak and looked down at him. He fell back, swooned by her powers. “Jakjak, I was at your side while you lay dying on that pile of dead spirits.”

Jakjak’s voice trembled. “Are you my
mambo
?”

“
Wi
. I have been appointed by God.”

“I know I’m a zombie, but the
Doktè
here says I’m not.”

“He’s wise for a medical doctor. Had I wanted to make you a zombie, you’d be a zombie.”

With a bold flourish, she again thrust first one hand and then the other at Jakjak, like one of the witches from
Macbeth
casting spells. With that, she was again short and bent over. I was in awe of her magical display.

“Yes, God gives me potions to do that,” the old woman said. “But the great
Bondye
needs you for greater deeds.”

“Am I dead?” Jakjak asked.

Sanfia’s height again increased dramatically, and she leaned over Jakjak. He leaned backward to look up into her gaze, and in a blinding flash, her eyes turned green. He clutched his face in his hands.

“Give me your magic that I’ll not have to feel the surgeon’s knife tomorrow,” Jakjak begged Sanfia.

“I am the healer. You need no other
doktè
. I poured God’s medicines in your mouth. You will be made whole.”

“How did you find Jakjak in this tunnel?” I asked.

“For thirty-five years, I’ve been coming through secret caves to this prison beneath the
Palè Pwezidansyèl
, the Presidential Palace. God gave me a passage to enter so that I could minister to the prisoners of Haiti during prior administrations.”

I looked around. “But who are the others who hide in the shadows?”

She snapped her fingers, and two men in short-sleeved T-shirts and jeans emerged. They were tall and muscular, and their faces were stern.

Keyes and I were startled, but Jakjak recognized them. He turned to me and said in a shaking voice, “Emmanuel and Jean-Pierre. They’re in my
sanpwel
.”

Sanfia slapped Jakjak. Her long, curled fingernails scratched his face. “Our societies must never be revealed to nonbelievers.”

Jakjak stepped back and trembled as Sanfia transfixed him with her intense, piercing stare.

Abruptly, she turned and snapped her fingers twice. Two more men popped upright, one close behind Keyes. Keyes gasped and jumped closer to me.

“Benoit and Shaza,” Sanfia said.

In the flickering light, these men looked odd, and their skin was sort of a pale gray. Their black skin was caked with a white material, like whitewash had been painted on. Unlike Emmanuel and Jean-Pierre, who were well-built and a little overweight, these men were petite and emaciated.

Before I could speak, Sanfia thrust her hands over her head. “But you are
blancs
, white people, and you are in danger. Evil men have found this place. It is not safe for you to stay here. They will kill you. Put away your lantern and follow me. Quickly.”

Sanfia reached for Keyes’ hand. Keyes hesitated, but clasped Sanfia’s hand and moved forward, behind Emmanuel and Jean-Pierre. Jakjak and I followed the women. Benoit and Shaza brought up the rear. We walked from tunnel to tunnel in the rubble, the broken walls of the earthquake-damaged basements all around us, until finally we emerged into the night skyline of Port-au-Prince. I noted how few lights were on in Haiti’s largest city. The city was extremely slow to recover from the earthquake.

We’d taken only a few steps outside when Jakjak dropped to his knees. He was breathing laboriously. As I rushed to his side, Sanfia clapped her hands and Jean-Pierre lifted Jakjak into his arms before I could reach him.

I called out to Sanfia. “Jakjak is sick. Help me keep him alive until his surgery tomorrow.”

“I know of his surgery, and
Bondye
will protect him with his magic, even if you do not subject him to the white man’s fallow ways.”

The white man’s fallow ways.
So that’s what I’d trained so long to learn.
I just hoped Sanfia’s talk didn’t convince Jakjak not to allow me to operate on him. He would die if something wasn’t done—and soon.

My mind raced with paranoid thoughts about Sanfia.
Was it safe for us to be led by this megalomaniac? Was she here to help, or was she leading us into a trap?
But there was no one else around to aid us, so I had to trust her. Hoping for the best, I followed the procession out of the city.

We continued around piles of stone and bulldozed stone buildings, and then through an open field to a wrought-iron fence circling a graveyard. The rich glow of the full moon illuminated a vast maze of gravestones and above-ground vaults. The troupe never slowed as it moved around the graves and past the house-like vaults. Finally, we reached the anonymous doorway of one of the crypts.

Sanfia stood in front of the door and said softly, “
L o o ouvri.
”

The door opened slowly, and we entered the small space in total darkness. Two coffins were stacked on each side. I took a deep breath of the stale, pungent atmosphere and tried to hold my breath and wait for fresh air, but it never came.

We all crowded into the room, which was only slightly longer than the six-foot-long caskets. Not until the entrance door had closed did Emmanuel turn on a flashlight and open a wooden door on the other side. He descended a steep and narrow stairway, scarcely three feet wide.

I took the first step down, and the stone stair rocked. I fell forward, striking my head on the low ceiling. Though dazed, I kept going, stepping carefully on the loose stones and bracing myself against the side walls. The others followed behind me.

At the bottom of the stairs, the space widened to eight feet. Water dripped from the earthen ceiling, forming mud puddles, which we walked through. The wooden braces supporting the ceiling were bowed and looked as if they could collapse at any moment.

Jakjak screamed. I turned to see what had frightened him. The bones of an elbow stuck from one wall. A few seconds later, he screamed again and I almost screamed, too, as I rubbed against a pelvic bone projecting from the other side of the tunnel.

Is this the grave site Sanfia has selected for us?
I had the strange feeling Sanfia was going to kill us and leave us there.

Jean-Pierre stopped as Jakjak again fell to his knees. I walked over to them. Jakjak trembled and was breathing hard and fast.

“
Doktè
James, I’m scared.”

I put my arm around his shoulder and hugged him, as much to comfort me as him. “Don’t worry. I’ll fix you up,” I said, but truthfully, I felt as insecure as Jakjak in that spooky place.

Then something dropped on my shoulder. I let Jakjak go and swung my hand to brush it off. It hit the ground beside Jakjak. He crawled away from it. I leaned over and peered at the dirt floor, expecting to see a tarantula or a snake. But it was worse than either of those two: a jawbone, with rotting flesh on it. I lifted Jakjak, hoisted him to my back, and rushed to catch up with the others.

Emmanuel stopped at another door.

Sanfia moved to the door and knocked three times. “
L o o ouvri
,” she said again.

The door opened, and we filed up two steps into what appeared to be the basement of a large house. Emmanuel flipped on a switch that illuminated two low-wattage bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

I looked around. In several places, the walls had been cracked by the earthquake and dirt flowed into the rooms. A shovel and broom leaned against the wall, and the linoleum floors looked like they had been scoured with meticulous care. A split in the ceiling of one room was supported by two ceiling-to-floor joists. Three closed doors were on either side of the hall.

As we walked toward another stairway, I heard knocking coming from behind two of the doors. At the third door, a voice kept repeating, “
Ede mwen.
” Another voice screamed, “
Silans! Silans!
”

I didn’t know any Haitian Creole, but I knew the first person was calling for help and the other one was trying to shut him up. I stopped and listened. I heard moaning coming from at least three different people in that room.

I couldn’t help but reach for the door. I turned the handle. The door swung open, and a hand grabbed my collar and jerked me toward the room. Before I could react, Benoit stepped to the door and shouted, “
Sispan fè sa!
This is your friend.”

The man whimpered and opened his hand, and I fell back into the hallway. I tried to see what was in the dark room, but all I saw was a thin hand with long fingernails before Sanfia leaped in front of me. Although she was scarcely five feet tall in her bent-over posture, her face was now even with mine.

“Do not disturb my guests! And never enter my rooms without my permission!” She glared at me with her red eyes for what seemed a long time before retreating to her former position.

I was speechless. Despite her age and tiny stature, the woman commanded my attention and certainly held the position of authority in this group.

Sanfia nodded at Emmanuel, who came to my side and said, “Sanfia takes in street people. Sometimes they get drunk.” Then, he shoved my shoulder and barked, “Move it!”

I resisted a moment but then followed the group, with Sanfia leading the way.